Before and After
by Compgirl21
Summary: Chelsea is offered a chance to go back in time, and change the way her life turned out, by someone less than trustworthy. Over time, she begins to wonder if creating an alternate universe is truly worth it. ***On hiatus**
1. Preface

_Preface_

"Yes."

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to ignore the guilt coiling in my stomach.

This was wrong. I had a good life; it didn't need to change. But as I stared into the dark eyes of this stranger, barely illuminated by our eerie surroundings, I knew – somewhere in my heart – that this was not true.

I wasn't happy.

I enjoyed these Islands, the people, and my occupation, but . . . I couldn't explain it. I'd rushed into things too fast. Like my marriage. Yes, that could certainly be better . . . If I had to do it all over again – which was exactly what this stranger was offering – I wouldn't have married Vaughn.

Our union was mostly out of convenience anyway . . . And he didn't love me. I was quite sure of it. He'd make the same decision if he was being offered this extraordinary chance . . . to start over.

To erase the last year of my life the same way a good pencil would erase its markings – as if they'd never been there to begin with. I was making the right choice. So why was the guilt weighing heavily in my heart?

I scolded myself for being foolish. I was always so terrible at making decisions, I was always sympathetic and trusting to the wrong people . . . I forced myself to look him in the eye, the candles flickering ominously in my peripheral vision.

"Yes, I'd like to do that. Start over. From a year ago, before I moved here, before I . . ."

"Married?" The elderly man's eyes twinkled like I'd told him a good joke.

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Chelsea."

I think he meant for these words to be kind and somewhat reassuring, but there was something about his expression, his tone, that made me shiver a little under his gaze. There was just something in his eyes that seemed a little off. But if a crazy person was the only one who could help me, then, why not?

"Thank you," I managed to breathe.

The wind blew so violently outside it shook the windows.

The man nodded and smirked at me. "Your wish shall be granted."

I heard the sort of note in his voice that indicated a catch was involved.

"But . . . ?" I prompted.

He chuckled, and his eyes wondered from my face for the first time. He stared out the windows, still smirking to himself mischievously for unknown reasons.

"This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Chelsea," he said softly, his voice low, almost soothing.

Drowsiness settled over my body in a heavy wave; alarmingly quickly. I barely had the strength to keep myself upright as I wrenched back my eyelids to stare at the old man.

He wasn't finished. "This chance mustn't be misused."

"How so?" My words were slow and slurred, as if I was drunk.

The old man's eyes flickered back to me. "You must be _positive_ that the path you take is different than the one before. The future must change. Don't let anything even be remotely _similar. _This is the price you pay for the deal."

I sank down on my knees, fog settling over my brain in thick, heavy clouds of almost visible mist.

"Why?" I managed to moan.

"That's how it works." He shrugged his thin shoulders dismissively.

My eyes closed, and I felt my cheek against the cold linoleum floor. "And if it _is_ similar?"

I garbled. I had to ask this one last thing before I passed out, died – whatever he was doing to me. I barely managed opening my eyes just enough to look at him, standing over me. For the first time, a dark look flashed across his features.

"There will be consequences," he murmured lowly.

I could only stare at his face for a few more seconds before I succumbed to this terrible tiredness. The last thing my mind recalled was that he'd stared down at me with happy eyes.

And smiled.

**A/N: So - since I'm working on different stories at the same time, I can't always promise quick updates. But I'll do my best. **


	2. Past, Present and Future

_1. Past, present and future _

"What do you want for dinner?" I asked, standing behind the counter of our small kitchen.

In our house. On our farm. _Ours. _Sigh . . .

Vaughn shrugged indifferently, as usual. "Doesn't matter."

_Does anything? _I wondered.

I ended up making some sort of casserole. Part of me contemplated putting carrots in the dish, but that would be immature and childish. The best way for anyone to work out their issues is through the fine art of communication.

Of course, if my husband wasn't the very definition of the word _quiet, _maybe some problems would be resolved. I grumbled in my head for a long time, thinking of other words to describe him as.

_Cold, dismissive, apathetic, rude, anti-social_ . . .

I sighed again, setting a plate before him. My mental complaints were one of the few things that got me through the day. Truthfully, in the beginning, I'd been so glad to start a new life on Sunshine Islands.

The prospect of staring a ranch and finding sunstones to raise long-forgotten Islands from the sea was nothing short of wonderful. The people were so kind, so nice.

My very best friend, Julia, had been dead-set on keeping me on the Islands, because she knew what a great opportunity this was for me. Besides my obvious tasks, I suppose a small part of my mind knew that, somewhere along my journey, I would meet someone.

And get married.

But, at the time, it seemed like such a small thing. A miniscule task compared to the huge ones I was presented with. I really didn't put much stock into the idea. After college, I had been focused on finding myself a stable, well-paying job.

Romance was never something I dwelled on, because there were always other things that demanded my attention. So maybe I didn't take marriage as seriously as other people.

When I met Vaughn, a little over a year ago, I was left with the same impression of him as everyone else. That he wasn't the best person to spend time with. I was almost constantly with Julia, though, so it was inevitable that I would see her brooding cousin from time to time.

Although I didn't care for his personality in the slightest, I couldn't say that he wasn't appealing physically.

Wide, amethyst eyes.

Shiny silver hair.

A strong, stubbly jaw.

Well muscled arms, and tall, over six feet.

He was actually very attractive, and I would be lying if I said I hadn't fantasized a few times about kissing him, when my mind wasn't absorbed in my work, which was almost always. I stared at him for a few seconds as he ate.

Yes, he was just as strong and good-looking as ever. But that really wasn't the point. I sighed yet again, sitting down across from him with my own plate. We ate in silence. Again. My mind wondered back to old memories.

Julia had supported the idea of me and her cousin wholeheartedly, and she constantly tried to get us alone, to talk. And, during these clipped conversations, it became apparent to me that he wasn't as big of a jerk as I'd originally thought.

Even now, I couldn't deny that he was a good person. We spend bits of time here and there on the Islands.

Helping him at Mirabelle's Animal Shop, confronting him during a tense conversation with Denny, defending him against Lanna's nickname, and walking down the beach with him, talking mostly about respect.

Those memories of being with him were actually pleasant.

So when my mother called me – she did so every month or so – I told her about him. She approved wholeheartedly, and then the subject of marriage came up. My mother had me late in life, and she had a drinking problem.

I knew in my heart that she wouldn't be around for much longer. But she wanted me to get married, because she wanted to make sure I'd be taken care of when she was gone. She knew she was close to dying, too.

But that didn't make her lay off the booze. Of course not. I dwelled over the idea of marriage for a while. When Vaughn asked, with the Islands' custom of a blue feather, I accepted. It seemed like the easiest way.

I'd have help around the farm, and I liked him. True, I was not in love with him. I never had been. Maybe it was because I hadn't spent too much time with him. We dated for a very short period of time.

Or maybe it was just because I was too immersed in my work. But whatever the reason, being in love simply hadn't mattered to me. Getting married was an essential part of my life plan, but love?

Not really.

I assumed that it would come later. I assumed it would come later, if at all. I never believed Vaughn was in love with me, either. I did think that he cared to some degree. But we weren't crazy about each other the way Julia and Elliot were.

The love and wonder in their eyes whenever they looked at each other was a mystery to me. I occasionally felt jealous, but the emotion would pass as quickly as it came. I had other things to do.

We'd been married for one year. And I was only beginning to accept the fact that I'd made a mistake, that I should have put more thought into the decision. Love still wasn't a big deal to me, but perhaps I should have chosen someone . . . happier?

Vaughn was almost always silent as stone, and his words were usually short, never speaking more than he absolutely had to. He didn't enjoy association with others; even speaking to his Aunt or cousin for too long was taxing.

He spoke to me more often, but really, that was probably out of obligation more so than actual desire. At times, I wondered why he'd asked to marry me in the first place. Maybe he assumed the love would come later, too.

After much time considering this idea, I decided it was unlikely. Vaughn didn't seem like the type to go for deep, emotional feelings of love. So why would he seek them out? Why not marry whoever was the most convenient?

He loved animals, and worked on the ranch just as much as I did, if not more. He could still work at the Animal Shop, and he was away from the city, a place he hated very deeply. Most of the time, I thought of our marriage as a bond forged out of convenience.

At first it didn't bother me, but after a year of being married to the same, unresponsive person, I began to resent it.

I began to feel regret.

So much so that I wondered what life would have been like if I'd stayed in the city after college. What would I have become? How different would my life be?

"I think I might go to the city to do some clothes shopping soon," I said, "Would you like anything?"

He sighed, staring out the window. "Just get whatever you think suits me."

I blinked, and for a moment my mind was completely blank. Sometimes it amazed me how much about him I simply didn't know. Quite honestly, the details of his past were fuzzy and unknown. I couldn't even say what his favorite color was.

Though I could guess, judging by his attire. Black. A dark color, with no love or personality. Pain twisted in my heart when I realized that this description would fit my marriage aptly. I stood up abruptly, and yanked my coat from a hook, though spring was just beginning, and it was warm outside.

"Where are you going?" he asked, no hint of real interest in his voice.

"Out," I said. I waited with one hand on the doorknob to see if he would protest. A tear welled up in my eye and slipped down my cheek when I was met with silence.

He simply didn't care.

* * *

Really, it was uncommon for hurricanes to begin during the day. Most of the time they were already raging outside when I first opened my eyes in the morning. So when I woke up today, I naturally assumed that Taro had been wrong about the weather – for once.

When the wind picked up and the clouds became dark and heavy with rain, I continued fishing on the beach on the south end of Vendure Island, hoping in vain that it would pass.

But when the storm made it almost as dark as night and the rain was pelting the ground almost violently, I knew I had to get home. I sighed, walking slower than any other sane person would. I knew what was waiting for me at home.

Or, rather, _who _was.

I sighed. The wind whipped across my face and burned my eyes; the rain drenched my clothes and I was finding it exceedingly difficult to move forward. By the time I reached the Diner, my energy was all but depleted.

I hoped Nick, the owner of the place, wouldn't mind sheltering me until the storm passed . . . which probably wouldn't be until tomorrow. I knew Vaughn was more than capable of dealing with any problems back home, so I didn't worry much about the farm.

I managed to wrench the Diner door open and stagger almost drunkenly inside. The force of this hurricane had stolen Sunshine Islands' electricity; the Diner was lit only by a few candles, placed on each individual table and a few seemingly random places on the floor.

It was silent as a grave inside; the only sound that could be heard was the wind. My eyes scanned the large room, looking for anyone else who'd taken shelter here.

But of course everyone else had been smart enough to hurry home the moment the first drop of rain hit the ground – Taro made sure his warnings of coming storms reach's every pair of ears. I was grateful to be out of the hurricane, but the silence was somewhat eerie.

Even the tiny flickering flames of the candles seemed to be giving off an ominous aura. I shivered a little, and sat down at one of the table chairs, listening to the storm. I glanced over at the counter, but Nick was nowhere to be seen . . . which was strange.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, letting my mind wander. I'd only been sitting like that for a few minutes, when I heard the creaking. It was very quiet, but it was audible all the same; a long, whiny creak that hurt my ears.

Fear clouded my mind for a few short seconds before I calmed myself and forced my brain to think rationally. Nick had a small apartment above the Diner; it was safe to assume there were stairs leading up to it.

Stairs that were old and creaky, because this Diner was quite old. Still – because I didn't know for certain – I was very tense when the tall door behind the counter opened and a short figure stepped into the room.

I squinted – there were no candles around the corner where the counter was. Hesitantly, I got to my feet, my hands clutching the straps of my rucksack in my nervousness.

"Nick?" I asked, my voice hoarse for some unknown reason.

The figure moved around the corner and stepped into the light of a few small, orange candles. I cringed and stepped back. The man standing before me was not Nick. He was quite old, probably sixty five or so – with a wrinkled face, narrow lips and small, pebble-like eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said in a quiet, soothing voice.

"Hi," I mumbled, "You're not Nick."

The man laughed in a spurt of short cackles – it was an unnerving sound.

"Child, you aren't happy with your life," he murmured.

I blinked. "Who are you?"

My fingers trembled, and my heart was racing. A creepy person had just stepped out of the shadows and started naming facts about my life – facts that he couldn't possibly know.

He waved the question away like it was a troublesome fly.

"You aren't happy," he repeated.

I shrugged. I didn't know what else to do. Maybe my mind had snapped from stress and I was conversing with a hallucination.

"So what?"

A deep chill of fear was pinning my very bones in place; I could move, think, and breathing was difficult to remember. The man smiled, and I didn't like the disturbing twinkle in his dark eyes.

"I bet you'd like to change your life. Do it all over again."

"I – I" – I babbled. Despite the fear, and his menacing aura, my curiosity had been piqued.

"Maybe," I agreed, "But I can't."

"On the contrary, Chelsea." The man still seemed amused. "It's quite possible, I can assure you. There are some conditions involved, however . . ."

I raised up my hand to stop him.

"You're crazy," I said, moving away again.

I turned and placed my hand on the doorknob. But it was locked. If this was a delusion, I wanted it to stop now. He wasn't making sense, and what he was offering me was more than impossible; it was too good to be true. That didn't stop me from listening to what he had to say, though.

"There is only one condition, actually," said the man, acting like he hadn't noticed my pathetic escape attempt.

I tensed, trying desperately to shove the feeling of hope from my mind. Could I really start over? Erase certain parts of my life – one part in particular – and begin like it'd never happened?

"What is it?" I asked lowly, turning.

The man smiled at me, the way a viper might smile at something it is just about to eat. "You must be _absolutely positive,_" he said, "That – if you choose to do this – the future is changed in some way. You mustn't end up exactly – or similarly – like you are now."

His demand made absolutely no sense to me.

But, to appease the crazy stranger and the foolish hope in my heart, I said, "Alright."

In that moment, heaviness settled over my limbs, over my brain, like a think, unwavering fog. I sunk to the floor, and managed to ask a question. He murmured something about consequences – with a strange, suspicious smile.

And then I blacked out.

* * *

When I opened my eyes, I couldn't believe where I was. Small, two-bedroom apartment, the very same I'd stayed in during and directly after college. With short, shallow breaths, I looked around. This was my room.

My bedroom. I stared at the familiar collection of CDs on the bookcase; their familiarity made me shake uncontrollably. This could not be happening. Time travel is not possible. And it is especially not made to happen by insane old men in Diners during hurricanes.

But when my door opened, and I found myself staring at wide green eyes, messy blonde hair covered by a blue baseball cap, and a very familiar smile, the reality of my situation slapped me in the face, hard.

It was one year ago.

**A/N: Guesses as to who Chelsea is staring at?**

**I know that Vaughn and Chelsea don't seem to like each other much here. So much so that she wants him completely erased! But you have to understand her reasoning. And the fact that it gets better. **

**For the record, I love the color black. And Vaughn rocks it. **

**I wish the heart events were more romantic. Sigh. **

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own Harvest Moon, any of the characters and/or places/ideas. **


	3. Difference

_2. Difference_

"Chelsea, have you seen my toothbrush?"

Mark strode into the room and began looking through my CDs, as if he would find a tool for hygiene there. I couldn't answer him – I was still too busy trembling. My eyes flickered everywhere, taking in a sight before me that should be impossible.

All of my things were in this room. But they couldn't be, because they were back home, on Sunshine Islands, in the farmhouse. And Mark's things were there, too; he moved to the Islands just a short amount of time after I did.

Because he wanted to get married . . .

"Tianna's coming over later, and I can't kiss her with bad breath." Mark laughed, and finally glanced at me.

His smile dropped into a frown as he examined me carefully. "Chelsea, are you alright? You look . . . pale. Are you sick?"

For a minute, my mouth simply hung open, as if I had left my voice back in the Diner. I was still freaking out, definitely not in the mood for conversation. My vision was becoming distorted, and I knew that if I didn't calm down soon, I would pass out.

Yet I couldn't force myself to stop shaking, I couldn't make my heart stop racing, and my breath refused to come even slightly slower.

_This is impossible. _

The words whipped through my mind over and over again. Only one thought comforted me, made me believe that I may not be completely insane. Mark's wife . . . or, girlfriend, as she would be in this time . . .

"Chelsea? Chelsea!" Mark's hands were suddenly on my arms, shaking me a little.

His large green eyes were wide with concern, and his voice bordered on panic when I didn't answer. But I had no desire for a trip to the hospital – if anything, that would only accomplish my being sent to an insane asylum because of impossible delusions.

"Mark, I'm fine, everything's fine," I managed to say.

Reluctantly, he let go of my arms. "Are you sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

My tone was bleak as I attempted dry humor. "Nope. Only witches."

Mark laughed, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.

"I need to be alone for a minute," I pleaded, "I don't know where your toothbrush is."

"Yeah, I guess you wouldn't." Mark shrugged, and backed away slowly. He lingered in the doorway uncertainly.

I tried to smile, and I hoped it looked halfway convincing. "Really, Mark, I'm fine. Just . . . had a bad dream. I'll be out shortly."

"Okay, Chelsea," he agreed, unwillingly closing the door.

For a minute, I allowed utter silence in my mind. I slumped back onto the bed I was on and counted very slowly to ten.

_One, two, three, four . . . _

I knew for a fact that magic was possible. I'd seen it countless times before my own eyes. Witch Princess did not usually enjoy the company of people, but since she started dating my brother, she usually tolerated my being around quite often.

At first, I thought Mark was beyond crazy for dating someone who was undoubtedly a witch . . . I still didn't understand, and I was completely dumbfounded when he married her.

About a year from now.

Witch Princess – Tianna, her real name - used magic as often as my heart beat. She did impossible things, like creating typhoons, and zapping herself into different places impossibly quickly.

One second we could be on the Islands, and the next we were in the city . . . Of course, not many people knew of Tianna's power. She didn't need that kind of popularity. She enjoyed solitude and tricks.

Her mind was quick and devious, and her glares were enough to send shivers down my spine. Simply by being around her you, you were subconsciously aware you were in the presence of power. It was one of the oddest feelings in the world.

At first, I'd tried to convince my brother than he was wrong to like her. She was evil and tricky, and probably only using him for personal gain . . . But Mark ignored me. We'd had a huge fight about it – farther in the past than I was currently in – and hadn't spoken to each other for several weeks.

I was only worried that he would be hurt. Nothing on Earth could have shocked me more when Witch Princess showed up at my door three weeks after the fight and explained her feelings herself.

It was obvious she hadn't wanted to be there, hadn't wanted to speak with me at all. But she recognized how my separation from Mark was hurting him . . . and she didn't like it at all. That was the first thing that told me Tianna's affections were real.

Someway, somehow, she'd said, she had fallen in love with my brother. It was strange, because she'd never cared for someone else before . . . had never been this _happy. _Her speech was so sincere I had to believe it.

Though to this day – or, err, a year in the future – she was still somewhat evil. But she loved Mark. And he her. So eventually I got used to the idea of them being together, and I attended their wedding. I was really the only witness of it, besides Witch Princess's rude little niece Witchkin, and Tianna's bears.

After I became accustomed to the idea of them as a couple, I also got used to Witch Princess's magic. She sometimes did favors for me, if I asked. Though she would never say it aloud, I believe that she grew a bit fond of me, since I started hanging around so often.

And she might have even loved me after she moved to Sunshine Islands and found a marvelous place to build – or, in this case, make magically appear – a mansion, on Mystic Islands. Because I was the one who'd told her and Mark about the place.

And, after a very long time, I grew to love Witch Princess, too. If I remembered correctly, however, our mutual love had not happened yet at this point in the past. I sighed, realizing I had strayed very off topic, lost in my memories, some of which hadn't actually happened yet.

Thinking about it was starting to give me a headache. Quickly, I moved onto my actual point. Witch Princess used magic, all the time. Therefore, it was possible for impossible things to happen.

And I was, in fact, one year in the past. I drew in a deep breathe through my nose, and I grudgingly accepted this fact. After a minute, though, I opened my eyes and smiled up at the ceiling.

One year ago. In the span of one year, I had moved to Sunshine Islands, accepted the responsibilities that came with it, and married a man I really didn't love. And now it was gone, erased like marks on paper.

Everything that creepy old man had told me in the Diner was absolutely correct. I shuddered, though I was a little irritated with myself. I had been so quick to dismiss him, so quick to believe he was crazy. And yet I had the knowledge that it might be possible . . . I just hadn't realized it at the time.

For a moment, I wondered if I had made a terrible mistake. After all, I had accepted his offer so quickly. And suddenly his words were ringing through my mind.

"_You must be absolutely positive that – if you choose to do this – the future is changed in some way. You mustn't end up exactly – or similarly – like you are now."_

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling very cold. Just how similar did he mean? Could I not do _anything _the way I had before? And if I did . . . another memory came to mind, though it was dark and unclear, because I had been close to fainting.

"_And if it is similar?" _

"_There will be consequences."_

I didn't need find out exactly what those consequences were. Something about the tone of his voice, the happy glint in his eyes when he spoke of them, told me that they would be bad. Awful. Irreversible. I made up my mind then and there that I would try and make my life very different.

I would create an alternate universe.

* * *

After another long hour of contemplation and wrapping my mind around this surreal reality, I finally went out into the hall. This apartment so familiar, so beloved. I honestly didn't care much for the city – that's what lured me to Sunshine Islands – but I adored the place I lived.

The apartment was large and roomy, because I lived here with Mark, and when we combined our salaries we count afford the rent. Tianna lived in some far-off land, probably on the other side of the world.

That didn't stop her from arriving here in less than three seconds, of course. She visited very often, and sometimes Mark went back with her to wherever it was she lived. She never took me, though.

As I recalled, our relationship was somewhat strained at this point, because the fight had ended just a short time ago. I remembered how edge Mark always was, wanting us to be together, to get along . . .

I would have re-live the awkwardness all over again. I moaned inwardly. I went into the living room, once again marveling at out everything was exactly the same as before. I heard Mark moving around in the kitchen, so I sat on the couch. It was funny – in a strange way – how surprised I was to see TV.

Or the computer in the corner, the PS3 on the shelf. Strange devices I had all but forgotten after a year of isolation . . . Mark came out of the kitchen, munching on a sandwich. I smiled. Peanut butter and jelly. His favorite.

"So," he said, plopping down beside me. "What was the dream about?"

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion a moment, and then I remembered my excuse for being so disoriented.

"Oh. Um . . ." I struggled to come up with a lie. "I was in a Diner, with a creepy old man, and he was telling me impossible things about my life."

There. Not a lie. But it sounded as crazy as if it was just a regular, totally impractical dream.

Mark snorted. "Weird. I had a dream than Witchkin turned me into a fly once. And then fed me to bunch of hopping frogs."

I laughed. Witchkin didn't live with her Aunt yet, but she still visited often. She was always gloating about how she was the best witch in her village, but it irked her that she could not bear Tianna with magic.

"When's Witch Princess she supposed to be here?" I asked.

As soon as I spoke, though, a strange, familiar tremor seemed to vibrate all around us. And then, quicker than I could blink, Tianna was standing before us, in her long purple dress and strange cape with a skull emblem.

Mark smiled, and reached for her immediately, planting a kiss on her lips. She chuckled, and ran and hand through his hair affectionately. They whispered some words quietly, and I looked away, not wanting in to eavesdrop.

When I looked back, Tianna nodded at me once. "Good afternoon, Chelsea."

Her tone was brusque and professional, making it clear she was being polite for Mark's sake. I smiled at her, because I had to go along with this.

"Hey, Witch Princess."

She didn't allow me to call her by her first name yet. Mark pretended not to notice the stiff atmosphere. He kissed her hand, and spoke to me.

"We're going to lunch somewhere in northern Europe, Chelsea. I wish you could come with us."

I blinked, searching my memory for the reason why I could not go.

"Why can't I?" I finally asked.

If I was fact going to start my life again from this time period, I had to get caught. All I knew right now was that I had just gotten out of college, and I had a part-time job at a bookstore, not too far from here. I knew the owner, Mr. Gregor, and he was willing to let me keep the job until I started a career.

Or moved away . . .

Mark blinked, momentarily confused by my lack of knowledge. "Didn't you have an interview today? For some big company? That's why you didn't go to work . . ."

I nodded. Because I remembered. Today I was interviewing to be a secretarial assistant for some very successful CEO. I met all his qualifications, and I had been stressing about it for weeks . . . I almost snorted aloud.

I couldn't even remember whether or not I got the job. I was good with numbers and accounting and office procedures – the job wouldn't be difficult for me to do. I remembered my conflict before, knowing I would either have a job like that or what I ended up choosing: life on a ranch, because of my love of animals and the fact that I didn't mind hard work. Sunshine Islands had it, so I moved . . .

But what if I went the other way? What if I stayed in the city and took this job if I got it? If I remembered correctly, the pay was very substantial, enough for me to support myself fairly well. Taking the job wouldn't be similar at all to what I did before. It wouldn't lead to consequences . . . and, honestly, I wanted it.

I wanted to try this. I remembered wishing, wondering how my life would have gone if I'd chose another way . . . and now, impossibly, my wish had been fulfilled. By a creepy old man in a Diner, but still.

For the first time since the whole incident, giddiness invaded my mind, took over my thoughts. I wasn't married anymore. Vaughn wouldn't even remember me, because we hadn't met yet. I could do everything I dreamed about doing . . .

I would be lying, I supposed, if I said that small piece of my heart didn't ache for what I had lost. I loved living on Sunshine Islands, I loved how all the people seemed to be a huge, happy family. I loved my animals, and I loved the open space, the lack of huge buildings and stinky pollution.

And I . . . would miss Vaughn, too.

I'd spend a year with him, and sometimes I did enjoy his company. Sometimes I liked to be around him, and I liked it when he kissed me. But I couldn't think about that now, not when I had this incredible opportunity.

I would lock that sad little part of me in a drawer and never let it out. I couldn't, anyway. Not if the old man was to be believed. And he was. I cleared my throat, and came back to my current conversation.

"Yes, of course, I almost forgot," I muttered.

"Forgot? It's all you've talked about all this week!" Mark rolled his eyes. "Couldn't get you to shut up about it."

Mark's job was much more stable than mine. He was also in business, though in a low-rank position until he could move up into something more respectable. I knew that he didn't really care for the job – he loved animals and farm work possibly more than I did.

I wondered, idly, if you he would still move to Sunshine Islands eventually, without my help. Quite possibly. That was similar, but it was outside of my control, right? Nothing to worry about.

"Isn't in, like, twenty minutes?" Mark gestured to the clock, which indicated it was eleven in the morning.

"Oh, yeah," I agreed, praying he was right.

I went back into my room, and opened the closet. I marveled at my small collection of former attire – I very rarely had to wear something pretty on Sunshine Islands. So seeing three or four pretty dresses and skirts hanging up was a very foreign sight to see.

I selected a pretty white blouse and a long black skirt. I applied a bit of makeup, trying desperately to remember what the CEO's name was. When I went back into the living room, I was surprised to see my brother and Tianna still there.

"Tianna will transport you," Mark offered, "Cabs are expensive, and you'll never be able to walk there on time. We should really think about getting a car."

I took a small black bag – which I remembered as my purse – and put the strap over my shoulder.

"She doesn't have to do that," I muttered.

"No, I don't," Witch Princess agreed, "But I suppose I will."

She raised her hand into the air, and for a split second I was surrounded by a bleak cloud of nothingness. But in the next second I was standing outside a tall, professional building, on a sidewalk next to a busy street. It was drizzling slightly, so I quickly approached the doors.

I'd forgotten how disorienting Witch Princess's spells could be.

* * *

Precisely one hour later, I was walking out of the building again, feeling rather giddy. The CEO's name was Mr. Jackson. Thankfully, he'd been rather gracious about my forgetting his name.

Of course, he couldn't know that I'd had the span of a whole year to forget it. A year that hadn't actually happened yet. The drizzling had thankfully stopped, and I didn't want to waste money on a cab or a bus.

The walk was considerably long, but I was feeling empowered, like I could do anything, so I nearly skipped down the sidewalk. The interview had gone very well – Mr. Jackson was a likeable man with kindness and charisma.

He complimented me on my resume – which he'd apparently seen before – and asked me long strings of questions I answered as well as I could. Each reply seemed to please him, though, so eventually I was able to ignore my nervousness entirely.

I asked about the pay and the hours – as I had forgotten – and his answers were straight-forward and professional. But he made me laugh several times during the interview. I'd be working from six am to four or five pm every day – the hours were long, but the salary made up for it.

At the end, he shook my hand and said, "I think you'd fit in well here, Ms. Teller. We'll be sure to call and give you an answer by the end of the week."

It had been strange, him using my maiden name, because I hadn't used it in a year. Yet another shock to my system of this bizarre change of events. By the way Mr. Jackson spoke, I was almost positive he would give me this job.

I honestly hoped he would. It was lucky I had grown up in this city, because otherwise I would be very lost. Thankfully, I remembered my way back to the apartment. Halfway there, though, I was tired, and questioned walking the rest of the way.

I crossed a street and stopped in front of the door of a little Café named Rachel's. As I was approaching it, a sense of eerie familiarity swept through me, but I ignored it. Lots of things were causing me the feel that way.

But as my hand touched the door, and my eyes met another's through the glass window, crystal blue and shining, I realized why this particular place had sent such strong warning signals through me. This was where I had seen Julia again after such a long separation.

And met Vaughn for the first time.

**A/N: It's kind of difficult explaining the difference between past and future now. :0. Oh well. **


	4. Goodbye

_3. Goodbye_

I froze halfway into the Café.

I simply stood there for a moment, mentally debating whether or not to turn, and sprint away. This was exactly the type of situation I should be avoiding. The kind that might bring about unwanted _consequences. _

I couldn't believe I didn't recognize this place the moment I set eyes on it; I had just been so giddy, so thrilled, that my interview had gone well. And I hadn't been paying enough attention to my surroundings . . .

Well. I was going to pay for it now.

Because Julia had already seen me, and was grinning from ear to ear. I couldn't tell if my expression was blank or horrified as I stared back at her; I could only hope it wasn't the latter.

"Chelsea!"

Julia's voice rang out across the room, as merry and cheerful as ever.

I sighed, and resigned myself to the fact that there was no going back now. Julia gestured for me to come over, still smiling.

My eyes flickered to the person sitting across from her. The person I had met here a year ago, the person whom I had once been married to. The person who would have no memory of me whatsoever now . . .

I was surprised at how that little realization stung. Neither of them would have any memory of the whole of last year, because it hadn't happened yet. Vaughn had no idea who I was. Again, I was lost in this surreal reality as I hesitantly approached the table.

Exactly the same way as I had done in the past.

This whole thing was going to bring on déjà vu to the point of severe headaches. Julia's arms were around me before I could work myself up even more.

"Chelsea Teller? Oh, it's so good to see you! It's been years!"

I paused for a moment, and then hugged her back. "It's good to see you, too," I said honestly.

Knowing that Julia and I couldn't be friends – at least close ones – was a real, sharp ache in my heart. But there couldn't be harm in talking to once in a while, right? For a moment, my mind played out how this little visit went, in the past . . .

"_Oh, Julia, hi! How are you? Where are you living now?" _

"_On Sunshine Islands – they're fairly far away from the city, which is just what I like. How have you been doing, Chelsea?" _

"_I'm looking for work. I had a job interview that went well, but . . . I'm still not positive as to what I want to do." _

"_Why don't you visit the Islands? They're cute, and there's so much space. I don't remember you caring for the city much, either. We could use new residents . . ." _

"_Oh, Julia, what could I possibly accomplish on remote little Islands? My mother wouldn't approve . . ."_

I hadn't added, at the time, that I was living with my brother and my mother was probably passed out on her apartment floor as we spoke.

"_Just a visit, Chelsea, please? Remember how much you loved animals in Junior High? There's a deserted old ranch up north that you might like." _

"_I don't know . . ." _

"_It'll give us the chance to talk. And it'll only be for a few days. Please?" "Oh, alright, Julia." "Yay! Oh, by the way, this is my cousin – you've never met him, have you? His name is Vaughn."_

Of course, the conversation hadn't gone exactly like that, but something along those lines . . . I agreed to go with her, and I ended up staying for so much longer than a few days. My interview forgotten, I adopted the abandoned ranch and the Island residents as family.

The Islands were like a dream come true, so beautiful, so far from the noise of the city. And, though my first impression of Vaughn, here in this Café, was not good by any stretch of the imagination, he grew on me.

I felt someone shaking my shoulders.

"Chelsea?" Julia's expression was suddenly embarrassed, her cheeks a bright red. "You _are_ Chelsea, right? If not, you sure look a lot like her . . ."

I grinned, letting her flounder for a moment before I replied. "It's me, Jules. In the flesh."

She smiled, and hugged me again. "Thank God," she sighed, "That would have been embarrassing."

She stepped back. "So, how have you been?"

Different. I repeated the word mentally in my mind over and over.

The situation was already similar – but I could try and spin it in a different direction than before, couldn't I? It had to work.

"I'm doing well. I just had an interview with this prestigious CEO, and I'm fairly certain I got the job."

"Wow, that's cool." Julia sat back down, gesturing for me to sit in the extra seat.

Vaughn, predictably, was silent.

I didn't let my eyes flicker in his direction just yet.

"I never imagined you doing something in the world of business," Julia continued, "You seemed much more focused on animals and camping in Junior High."

I shrugged. "Things change, Julia. I'm really happy with where I'm at."

I hoped that, since I sounded enthusiastic and satisfied, she wouldn't offer. But, of course, she did.

"I live on Sunshine Islands – they're pretty far away from here, but they're beautiful and peaceful. You should come and visit me."

"I would," I said, "But I'm pretty busy with things lately. I need to stick around and wait for the CEO's call. The job is really worth it."

Julia frowned, caving quicker than I would have guessed. "Really? That sucks. I was planning on leaving for home in a few days' time, but now that I ran into you, I should stay longer."

"Oh, you don't have to do that for me, Julia," I said, trying to keep the hint of desperation from my voice.

"I do! I haven't seen you in so long. We were BFFs, remember?" She laughed, her pretty blue eyes practically dancing.

My heart sped as she picked past my carefully constructed wall, without even knowing it. I had to keep Julia around – how could I not? I loved her.

And, really, wasn't my little deal more centered around Vaughn, anyway? Surely this connection to my old life would anger the old man from the Diner. At least, I prayed it wouldn't. I half-smiled, wondering if my eyes were sad.

"Yeah, I remember. Where are you staying?" I asked, though I already knew. It was strange, knowing so many things; it made me feel powerful. Brave.

"I've been staying with my cousin," Julia said, gesturing.

I didn't look. "You could come stay with me – Mark wouldn't mind."

"Mark?" Julia paused for a minute, her brow furrowing.

I almost laughed out loud – she didn't remember who he was.

"Your brother?" she finally asked.

"Yes."

I hoped I would have to explain Witch Princess's magic while Julia was a houseguest. I wasn't sure if Tianna knew how to be discreet – I dreaded asking, at this point in our relationship, but it was necessary if the witch thing was to remain a secret.

"I wouldn't want to impose," Julia said, pursing her lips.

"You wouldn't be," I assured her, "If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't ask."

My eyes widened a bit at my own statement – how many times over the past year did I hear Vaughn say the exact same words? Too many to count. Julia realized this, too – her eyes lit up in recognition and she smirked.

"Vaughn says that all the time."

He snorted, and finally, I allowed my gaze to flicker to the man I still had mixed feelings about. For a split second, as we locked eyes, I was afraid. Though this reality was very convincing – undoubtedly real – some small part of me feared he would know who I was, anyway.

That fact that my former husband had forgotten me entirely was just too surreal. So, as I stared at a set of hard, amethyst eyes – the very thing that first enchanted me – a little knot was quivering in my stomach.

I waited for him to jump from his chair, and ask me what the hell we were doing here. I waited for him to accuse me of nasty things – some of which I was guilty of. But that didn't happen. Instead, he just gave me the harsh, intimidating glare he reserved for meeting – and warning – new people.

It was his "leave me the hell alone" look. I remembered receiving it in the past, in this very Café, and again, the déjà vu was making my head spin. I forced myself to think, to concentrate. I cleared my throat, and forced a smile.

"Hello, Vaughn."

His glare intensified, as I knew it would, and he muttered something that didn't sound like a greeting under his breath. Julia nudged him, staring disapprovingly.

Then she looked up at me again, her tone apologetic. "I'm sorry, Chelsea – he's like that to everyone. He's actually rather . . . nice, once you get to know him."

Vaughn snorted, and looked out the window. "Don't talk about me like I'm not here, Julia."

She ignored him. "Well, he's never nice," she admitted, "But he gets . . . easier to be around."

_I know. _"I'm sure."

I had to change the subject; it was safer not to linger on the subject on Vaughn – maybe even talking about him would set off the old man.

I was playing with fire here. I could only hope I wouldn't get burned.

"So, when can you come?" I asked.

Julia shrugged. "Tomorrow?"

"Sure." I looked at my watch, pretending I actually cared about the time.

"I should leave now, Jules." I stood up, gave her the address, and gave her a long hug. I repeated the silent prayer in my mind that we could remain friends.

"We'll have so much fun, Chelsea," she promised, "There's so much to talk about."

I nodded, and then turned. But just as I was taking the first step, it suddenly occurred to me that there was something I wanted – needed – to do.

Very slowly, not meeting my cheerful best friend's eyes, I turned back and looked at Vaughn, whose gaze was still locked on the window.

He looked bored and annoyed at the same time. To someone else, however, he would probably seem indifferent. But I had gotten good at reading his facial expressions.

I would miss doing that. I would miss his occasional laughs, the odd color of his eyes, the way his harsh nature would sometimes be calmed by a few of my soft words and gentle touches . . .

Though he didn't love me, I seemed to bring him some degree of peace he wasn't used to experiencing. It seemed cruel to take that from him. Slowly, my hand raised, and my fingers lightly brushed the side of his jaw.

Almost instantly, he whipped his head around to stare at me. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. I almost chuckled, but I didn't, for that would be suicidal. He didn't like to be touched, really, especially total strangers.

Before he could open his mouth to talk, or yell, or curse, I turned and rushed out the door. As I headed down the sidewalk, I had mixed feelings about that last action. On one hand, it was very rude, and obviously aggravated him.

But I felt like it was necessary. As far as I was concerned, that meeting in the Café might be the very last time I saw him. Though a small part of my heart ached with this knowledge, I pushed it aside, remembering what a bright future was awaiting me.

Though he didn't know me, though I was no different to him that any other meaningless person he thought was worth less than dirt, I couldn't walk away without that simple action. It was my idea of closure, that last, affectionate touch.

It was my way of saying goodbye.

* * *

It didn't bother Mark in the slightest that Julia would be staying with us for a while. I didn't worry about them getting along, because I'd seen them interact in that alternate universe, and they were pretty good friends.

But Witch Princess . . . I wasn't so sure.

"Do you think it'll bother Tianna?" I asked, while he watched some stupid baseball game on TV.

Mark held up a finger, because I was obviously interrupting some major event in the show. When some commercial about toothpaste came on, he finally turned his head, and shrugged.

"I don't know, Chelsea. You know she's not a people person."

"I know," I groaned.

"And she's not going to like having to hide her magic."

"I know."

"But I suppose I can get her to agree. You'll just owe me for a while," he said matter-of-factly.

I searched my mind for something _he_ owed _me. _But I couldn't think of anything that didn't happen in that one year on Sunshine Islands.

"Fine." I caved, crossing my arms over my chest and scowling like a child.

Mark grinned cockily. "So, how long will she be here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Is she hot?"

"Mark!" I prodded his ribs with my fingers. "You're not single!"

And the very idea of Julia with my brother was just . . . wrong.

Mark laughed. "I know. C'mon, Chelsea, you act like I'm serious. I just want to make sure I won't be sharing my apartment with someone who's looks are the equivalent of a badly-groomed dog."

I sniffed, hurt. "I didn't complain when Witchkin stayed here."

The memory was distant and fuzzy, but I could recall: Witch Princess leaving her brat of a niece here for one night. All Witchkin did during the visit was turn my things into frogs and complaining about how her magic wasn't as powerful as her aunt's.

"That was for one night." Mark rolled his eyes. "And she wasn't painful to look at."

"Julia is very beautiful," I said truthfully.

Mark nodded, satisfied. "Good. She couldn't be hotter than Tianna, though."

I laughed. "Witch Princess gets extra points for personality."

Mark grinned. "Yes, she does."

**A/N: Poll on my profile, concerning an extra for Love and Hate, if you're interested. **


	5. Doubt

_4: Doubt_

Julia arrived the next morning with a big suitcase and a wide smile.

She wrapped her arms around my waist immediately, and held on for a long time. When she pulled back, there was a tear pooling in her left eye.

"What's wrong, Jules?" I asked, concerned.

She sniffed. "I'm just so happy to see you, Chelsea. I know we promised to keep in touch after high school, but we both knew we wouldn't. And now . . ."

She turned her head, probably so I wouldn't see the tear leak and slide down her cheek. She reached up quickly to brush it away before finishing her sentence.

"Now maybe it won't be like that."

I blinked, shocked. I knew that, after a year on Sunshine Islands, Julia and I loved each other like sisters. When I wasn't at the farm, or with Vaughn, you could have bet everything you owned that I was with Julia.

Whenever I went on a much-needed shopping spree in the city, she was always there. When I wanted to wander aimlessly around Meadow Island and admire the sea, she would be there to talk with me.

Before I married, I would sometimes spend the night in the Animal Shop, and we would spend hours talking about anything we wanted to.

I had never been closer to anybody. But the sincerity of her words now made me wonder if Julia had always felt that way. That our friendship in high school had been so strong that it killed a small part of her for us to part.

That, even now, she loved me.

Memories of high school flashed through my mind in a second; they were all with my best friend. Sure, I loved Julia then, too. But perhaps not as strongly.

In the juvenile and deceitful world of high school, most friendships were forged out of convenience than desire. They broke as often as they were made. I myself had dropped a few so-called 'friends' for stupid reasons.

Phoebe lost my favorite book, Diana kissed the boy I had a crush on, Valerie left a bright pink stain on my green sweater . . . I had a lot of friends in high school, and they all came and went.

Just like with my marriage, I never considered friendship to be of high importance in life. There was so much else to think about; getting high grades, getting a good job, finding a decent house.

But Julia was the one that stuck.

She was the only friend I ever had that I genuinely began to care for over time. I missed her when she wasn't there, and I valued her opinions and actually listened to what she had to say.

I didn't always listen.

I had no respect for my mother, who was either drunk or hardly around. I hadn't the slightest clue who my father was. And the people I hung out with always seemed so shallow to me; worried about their hair, who was dating whom, what color dress to wear to a dance . . .

Over time, I hardly listened to anyone but myself. I was the only person in the world who matted. I didn't need people telling me who to be or what to say. I didn't need anyone.

Until Julia came along.

And now, standing here in front of the only person who really got through to me, I wondered how I had ever let her go.

"Oh, Julia," I said, shaking my head a little, "It won't be. Come on, I'll show you your room."

She grinned, and then started following me down the hallway. As we walked, I made a silent vow in my head. Julia would always be my friend, no matter what.

I didn't even care if it irritated the old man in the Diner that this was a _similarity. _She followed me to the last door in the hall, just across from mine.

"That's my room," I said, pointing to it, "And that's Mark's room."

I gestured to his door. Julia nodded, and then went inside her room. It was fairly plain; a bed, a lamp, a closet and a window. My eyes wondered to Mark's door; either he was sleeping, or out to some foreign land with Witch Princess.

My question was answered, though, when my brother's door opened and he stepped out, rubbing his eyes and adjusting his blue cap.

When he saw me, he smiled. "Hey, Chelsea, whatcha doin'?"

I smiled back at him. "I'm showing our guest her room."

"Oh." Mark craned his neck to see into Julia's room.

I smacked his chest, and he stepped ruefully away. When Julia came back out into the hall, Mark appraised her openly. Then he stuck out his hand and gave her his best boyish grin.

"Hi, Julia."

"Hey, Mark." She smiled politely at him.

"Chelsea was right," he said, "You are hot."

My eyes widened at his blatancy – sometimes I wished my brother would keep his thoughts to himself. I looked at Julia with apologetic eyes, trying to read her reaction.

She looked like she couldn't decide whether to be flattered or irritated. The combination was so strange on her face; I couldn't help but laugh.

"Come on, Julia," I said, taking her hand. I led her into my room, and we sat on the bed.

"Hmm." Her brows pulled together. "I'm not sure what to make of your brother."

"He's a bit of a question mark," I agreed. _That's probably why he's compatible with a witch, _I added in my head.

"He's just really blunt," I explained, "And he didn't mean anything by his comment. He's actually with someone."

Julia nodded. "That's good. It'd be kind of weird if he liked me, don't you think?"

I shuddered a little. "More than weird. Creepy."

She laughed, and then clapped her hands together, like she was going to make an announcement. But she only said, "So. Tell me more about this CEO interview."

"CEO's assistant," I corrected.

She shrugged, and then waited. I drew in a deep breath and told her all about the interview, in detail. I talked about Mr. Jackson and how nice he was, and I talked about was an amazing opportunity this job was.

I purposely infused a large amount of enthusiasm in my voice, so Julia would see how happy I was with my decision.

I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but a small part of me I rarely listened to was frightened that if Julia stared talking about Sunshine Islands, I would break down and go back there with her.

Because I did love those little Islands.

I had just made a few bad choices on them. And _that_ similarity was sure to bring about the old man's 'consequences'. Shivering a little to myself, I concluded my little speech about yesterday.

"Sounds like you're doing so well for yourself, Chelsea," Julia praised happily.

"I am," I agreed.

"Are you going to get a big apartment and a fancy car and rich, snobby friends?"

I laughed. "I don't think so. I probably _will _move out of here someday, and leave Mark alone."

"Well, I think you should come visit my Islands someday, Chelsea. Even though you're into business and office work now, you might still like the animals, and the open space. You know you don't really like the city."

"I have mixed feelings about it," I sighed.

I looked away, out the window. Unexpected sorrow welled up in my heart, but I pushed it away. I had always been good at ignoring unwanted emotions.

"I will visit sometime, Julia," I promised, though I knew it was a lie. I cleared my throat, trying to find my previous light humor.

"What's going on with you?" I asked. "Have you met someone?"

Julia thought for a minute, and then she shook her head. "No, not really. I mean, I think this boy Elliot likes me, but he's really shy. We've only spoken a few times . . ."

"Do you like him?" I asked, though I already knew.

"Yes, I do. Natalie, my friend, teases me about it. But like I said, it might be nothing."

A memory of Elliot and Julia together outside Chen's Shop passed through my head. They weren't really doing anything at all; just staring at each other with lovesick eyes, like the other person was the only think in the world that kept them alive and happy.

Julia loved him so much.

And anyone could see that they belonged together. I smiled a little to myself, the knowledge of Julia's appealing future pleasing to me. Julia should be happy – she deserved it.

"I think you should get to know him," I said, "He might be more than he seems."

She giggled. "He's not very mysterious, Chelsea. He's actually rather clumsy."

I grinned, remembering all of Elliot's mix-ups, and all the times his sister teased him about it.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Natalie thinks it's stupid, but I find it rather endearing."

"Hmm."

I never understood the attraction. I probably never would.

"And you?" Julia asked. "Are you seeing someone?"

My throat tightened, and it was difficult to ignore the powerful wave of guilt washing over me. Because I had been married to her cousin, and nothing had pleased her more. I had robbed her of that joy. I looked down at my hands, folded on my lap.

"No."

"Huh. I would have thought you'd have a boyfriend or something. You always did in high school. Not that you really cared about any of them."

I opened my mouth to reply, but I didn't really have a half-decent rebuttal. I _hadn't _cared about them. Looking back now, I hardly remembered their names. Mostly I just dated because the boy was cute, or popular, or he could help me in math, my most hated subject.

"I guess not. Maybe I'm waiting for the right one," I said honestly.

Suddenly, I saw a flash of purple in my mind. No, not purple.

Amethyst.

_He wasn't right, _I reminded myself, _you don't love him._

How could I? I hardly knew him. And he certainly wasn't eager to share information, even when we were married.

"That's good to do," Julia agreed, "If you're ready to get serious now."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Julia shrugged. "I don't know, Chelsea. We're both still so young. I think I'd like to have a bit more fun before I get married."

I blinked at her, my mind going blank. And then I laughed, the sound ringing out through the room, and possibly the hall.

She looked offended. "What?"

I waited for the laughing fit to pass before I replied. "Julia, you were never one for 'fun' in high school."

I chuckled again. She really wasn't. I didn't remember Julia ever really dating anyone – she found the boys at our school to be immature and unattractive. Aside from a few kisses here and there, she was probably the biggest goody-goody in school.

Which made me wonder how we got to be best friends in the first place.

She grimaced at me. "That's because the boys at our school were merely that. _Boys. _I want someone more mature."

"What exactly did you have in mind?" I asked, "A rich guy twenty years older than you? Well, at least you'll have enough money to be in the same class as me."

Julia threw a pillow at me, but I quickly deflected it. "Shut it," she said. But she smiled.

She looked thoughtful for a long time before she finally answered.

"I'm not sure what I want, really. Someone I can be myself with, I guess. I was going back to my Islands before I ran into you, but as long as I'm staying the city, why not have fun?"

"Fun as in, looking for old guys," I said.

Julia came at me with the pillow this time, knocking me backwards and trying to hold it over my head. I giggled, pushing her away and accusing her of trying to suffocate me.

Julia sniffed, and sat back down. "It would serve you right," she retorted.

"I'm only kidding," I sighed, pretending to roll my eyes. "I'm sure you'll meet Mr. Right soon, Julia. And I'll bet he's amazing."

I meant what I said, too. Though Elliot was awkward and shy, he really was a decent person. Under her tough exterior, his sister was, too.

"We should go out tonight," she said suddenly.

I blinked. "Why?"

"Why not? You're going to start working soon, and you'll have to go to bed at a reasonable hour." She wrinkled her nose, like this was a horrifying prospect.

I hesitated, biting my lip. "I don't know I have the job for sure."

"By the way you talked about this Mr. Jackson, you'll get it for sure. Come on, Chelsea. We'll only be out for a while."

"Where do you want to go?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I've forgotten where everything is in this city. We should just wing it."

I still hesitated, though the idea did sound appealing. A night out with my best friend, acting silly and having fun.

Why not?

* * *

An hour later, Julia and I were stepping into a bright yellow cab, ducking in quickly to get out of the light rain.

"This is going to be so fun," Julia gushed.

I smiled and nodded.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

I paused, debating. Eventually I gave him the name of an expensive restaurant, up in the nicer part of the city. It was a special occasion, after all. On the way, we both stared out the windows.

"This sure is a big place," Julia commented.

I shrugged. "Yeah. Always has been."

"You'd never run out of things to do."

"I guess not."

She leaned back in her seat, thoughtful again. "I suppose I could see why someone might want to live here. I still prefer the quiet of my Islands, though."

"Huh" was all I said.

We were silent for a while after that; Julia's eyes eagerly darted around, reading all the neon signs, taking in the massively tall buildings. By the time we reached our destination, she looked happy, but also somewhat awed.

I paid the driver, and we stepped out of the cab. Julia's head tilted to left, and her eyes became unfocused.

"Do you hear that, Chelsea?"

"Hear what?" I asked, wrinkling my eyebrows.

But after I was quiet and really listened, I heard the sound of music. It was distant, but definitely there.

"Let's go see where it's coming from."

Julia took a few steps towards the sound, away from the restaurant. A sense of nervousness I couldn't explain fell over me.

I stepped forward and took her hand, weary. "Let's not."

"Why not, Chelsea?"

"Because we already have plans."

Julia shook her head, like I'd just said the silliest thing in the world to her.

"Part of having fun is being spontaneous, Chelsea. Let's go see," she insisted.

She took my head, nodding her head in time with the beat of the music, getting close and closer with each step.

* * *

When we approached the tall brick building, my cautiousness still hadn't left me. The classier part of the city was behind us now, and the lights on this street were broken, cloaking our destination in darkness.

The only light came from a huge neon sign above the door, proclaiming its title – _The Zone._

The music was blaring from the small, square windows. Blinking, I came to a sudden, firm halt. Julia – whose eyes had been trained on the lights – stopped, too, and looked at me, her eyebrow arching.

"What, Chelsea?"

"Julia . . . that doesn't look like a place I would hang out. It's a club."

She pursed her lips, debating silently. Finally, she nodded once. "You're right. Those places can be dangerous."

There was a long line of people in front of the door, and at the head of the line was a big man dressed in black. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was unhooking a long velvet rope so new people could pass and go in.

Occasionally he turned someone away with a sneer. The people in line looked very bored – a dark haired girl with a cigarette in her fingers was leaning against the wall, staring at the big man impatiently.

A tall guy with spiky hair and a nose ring was talking excitedly to an equally strange-looking man; he was shorter, his hair streaked with green and a tattoo of a dragon was wrapped around his arm in black and red ink.

Julia blinked, and her eyes lit up as if she was realizing something. "You used to go to those places in high school all the time, didn't you, Chelsea?"

I hesitated for a minute, and then I nodded. As a rebellious teen, I often sought hang outs like this. But the people here never had clean intentions, and it was mostly a bunch of drinking and dancing.

"I was always so worried went you went to clubs, but you never listened to me . . ." Julia trailed off, shaking her head.

I shrugged, guilty now.

"I should have," I admitted, "These places give me the creeps now."

Julia bit the inside of her cheek, taking on an expression of longing that made my stomach turn. I tugged on her arm.

"Let's go, Julia."

She sighed, and didn't budge. "I think I'd like to go in, Chelsea. Just once. You always came back alright – what could happen?"

And with that, she started walking. I groaned. Once Julia made up her mind, there was no changing it. When we got in line, people glanced at us, but didn't say anything.

"This is crazy." I whispered to her, so the girls behind us couldn't hear. They looked younger than me – maybe seventeen, if that.

"I know," she whispered back.

I was pleased to detect a bit of uneasiness in her tone, and I hoped it would knock some sense into her. An evening chill was starting to creep up on me, and I wished I'd brought my coat. I caught Snake Tattoo trying to look down my shirt, and when I met his eyes, he didn't even look away.

He just grinned, flashing a set of crooked teeth. When we reached the front of the line, the big man looked both of us over once, his eyes lingering on Julia's low-cut shirt.

He grinned, unhooked the rope and said, "Come on in, ladies."

Inside, the music was so loud I could have sworn the beat was bouncing around in my skull, shattering my eardrums and pulsing in my blood. People were all around us, dancing and laughing.

Bright red and blue lights flashed down on us, making Julia's blue eyes flash and her nervousness more pronounced. I could see she was starting to regret her impulsive decision. I looked around at the dancing people and grimaced.

They weren't dancing so much as grinding. In the corner, a young couple was kissing openly, his hands groping under her shirt. Disgusted, I continued scanning the place – my eyes zeroed in on the bar.

A drink was just the think I needed to calm down – I knew I could handle a few glasses of wine before I got tipsy. I would just hang around until Julia got over her craziness and wanted to leave. I took her hand and pulled her with me.

We both sat up in the stools. Julia continued looking around, still nervous, but also curious. This kind of thing was completely foreign to her.

I sighed to myself as I ordered my drink – I nearly had to scream for the bartender to hear me. Yes, I used to come to these places a lot. But this wasn't what I did anymore.

It wasn't who I was . . . which begged the question: _Who am I? _

My fingers dug into the wood counter when a small voice in the back of my mind answered.

_You are an intelligent, animal-loving farm girl. _

I took a swig of the drink, and tried then tried to talk to Julia.

"Can we leave now?" I had to repeat the question three times before she finally understood.

She nodded. "Yeah, this was a stupid idea," she screamed back.

As we were making our way to the door, though, a man suddenly stepped in front of Julia, out of the crowd of dancers. He staggered a little when he walked, and when he spoke, his words were a little slurred.

The smell of alcohol and smoke hung in the air around him. He was tall, with light blonde hair and sharp, handsome features. He reached out, his smile strikingly attractive, and placed both hands on Julia's hips.

"Wanna dance, gorgeous?"

Julia blushed. I wrinkled my nose, sure she would be repulsed by this guy if he wasn't good-looking. But he was, and, after a moment's contemplation, Julia nodded in agreement. She turned to me, and leaned close to speak in my ear so I could hear.

"Just for a minute, Chelsea. Wait at the bar, okay?"

I nodded slowly, and then took a reluctant step back. Julia smiled up at the man, he grinned back, and then they disappeared into the crowd. I didn't even attempt to look for them. I just sat on a stool, sucking back another drink.

After a while, I knew I was drinking too much. I knew a haze was settling over my mind and lightheadedness was beginning to overtake me.

And yet I didn't care. This new path of mine suddenly seemed like it was falling apart, and so I drank and drank, wishing my emotional pain would cease.

After quite a number of glasses filled with alcohol, _The Zone _didn't seem like such a bad place to be. I welcomed the music, loved the way it seemed to pulse in my body, rattling my bones. My fingers started snapping, and my foot tapped on the floor.

A man waltzed up from the crowd, his steps and speech equally as shaky as the blonde's. He sat on the stool next to me, and ordered a scotch. He turned to face me then, leaning in so close I could smell his smoky breath.

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

A small part of my brain knew that the drinks were making me stupid and giddy, but the larger part of it didn't care. A man was speaking to me, I was in a club, and flirting was almost essential.

I leaned close to him and whispered, "What do you want it to be?"

The man blinked, and grinned. His hair was greasy and black, his eyes a shiny blue. Attractive, just like the blonde, and probably my age.

He shrugged, and chuckled. "Just tell me."

My voice came out slow and weird. "C-Chelsea," I said.

The man looked me over, and he seemed to like what he saw. He stood up, and held out his hand.

"I'm Devon. Wanna dance, C-Chelsea?"

I shrugged, and then stood. "Sure."

He pulled me into the crowd, and then we started to move. He kept his hands to himself in the beginning, but after a while he pulled me close, sliding his hands into the back pockets of my jeans.

As we danced, all I could think about was how those hands felt differently than the ones who'd touched me before. They were too dark, too smooth. I frowned a little. His face was wrong, too. His eyes weren't amethyst, and his hair was far too slimy and black.

_Why am I here? _I suddenly wondered. _Who is this touching me? _

Devon suddenly let his lips slide to my ear, and he whispered in a low, husky voice.

"Wanna go find someplace quiet, C-Chelsea?"

I knew what he was really asking. Images of me and this man – Devon – kissing in some corner, like the couple I'd seen before, flashed through my mind. His hands unhooking my bra, unbuttoning my jeans, lust the only emotion in his eyes.

I swallowed, and forced myself to think clearly though the alcohol-induced haze. I didn't want that. I didn't want that to happen. He was too short, his limbs too long and gangly, his eyes too normal and boring.

I vaguely recognized that I shouldn't be looking for similarities between Devon and my former husband. Suddenly, I hated the fact that thinking clearly was difficult and the fog made reality strange and distorted.

I knew that I wanted this new path of my life to be different, but I didn't want it to be different like _this._

I might meet someone while I worked in the city, and I might date him. I might even marry him. But that certainly wasn't going to happen _here. _Not under the gaze of this blue-eyed boy I knew nothing about.

Suddenly I hated myself for being so stupid. I abruptly pulled myself from the stranger's arms, and stumbled away. I didn't even bother to say goodbye. I knew he would soon lose me in this thick crowd of people, and I knew he'd soon find another girl who'd do exactly what he wished.

Tears formed in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to push them back. One escaped and rolled down my cheek. I looked around, trying desperately to locate my friend. The red and blue lights were suddenly much too bright – they hurt my eyes.

Finally, my gaze zeroed in on Julia.

She was still dancing with the blonde, laughing at something he said. Thankfully, I noticed that his hands stayed on her waist. I fought my way through the crowd, ignoring the annoyed glances several people shot me.

When I was close enough, my hand shot out, and my fingers curled around Julia's wrist.

I leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Let's go, Jules."

She turned, still laughing – and stopped abruptly when she saw the unshed tears in my eyes.

"Chelsea, what's wrong?" she asked loudly.

I shook my head, indicated that I didn't want to talk about it know. Knowing internally that I would never be able to talk to her about it. I just tugged on her arm, wishing she would hurry to the door with me.

Julia glanced at the blonde, yelled that she was leaving, and then started to follow me. I caught a glimpse of him frowning at me as I turned, but I couldn't care less. I couldn't get out of here fast enough.

Julia didn't question me again as he fought our way to the door. She remained quiet when she stepped out of the door. I turned my face away from her as we walked down the sidewalk, the light rain drizzling down on us. The tears had escaped, and were running full-force down my face.

Because I wasn't sure of anything anymore.

**A/N: So. This Chelsea is a bit different than the others I've written. I don't think she's quite as...sweet? More sarcastic and down to earth. And Julia is, too. Hopefully I'm not getting OCC - I pride myself on staying in character. Oh, and Vaughn should be back in a little while. :) **


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